Incandescent Rapture

Warning: Coarse language not suitable for… well, geez everyone knows them by the time their ten—read at you're discretion people.

Chapter 1

He stared hard at what should have been his reflection. But there stood someone ugly—dark circles lining their eyes. Eyes were full of anguish, shame, guilt and a desperation that was disgusting. The hair was dull and hanging in a dirty manner around the pale and unhealthy looking face, adding to his growing revulsion. Shoulders hunched. Craving for something he knew was no longer there—useless.

What had he become?

When had he become so appalling?

What choice did he have?

He was fucking seventeen! He was a kid. He wanted to go back. He wanted to turn back time. He wanted things to go back to the odd tranquility of chaos. His body buckled over the sink, his body heaving in disgust over his behavior.

His stomach turned. What was he doing? His throat burned, his eyes suddenly dry as he desperately wanted to have this entire episode to end. His body shook as he heaved into the sink.

Pathetic

"SHUT UP!" he yelled into the sink.

Look at you? Disgusting.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" He flayed his hand wildly, hitting the mirror. "I don't want this!" He heard himself say despairingly. "I never wanted this!"

How pitiful… how the mighty have fallen.

His hands hammered harshly at the mirror, trying to destroy the hideous reflection of what he had become. When finally, he pulled away, leaning heavily on the sink. The quiet was almost unbearable. But it helped with the numbness that was beginning to settle into his stomach. So when he heard the gasp behind him—it was shattering. He knew he was a mess, his eyes ringed now with red of unshed tears. He turned; ready to yell at however had disturbed him, only to freeze.

There stood Rukia. Princess of fucking Soul Society. Wonderful, now he was delusional. Her eyes swept over him stripping him to his dirty soul.

"Get out." He hissed, surprised to register his hoarse voice.

Her eyes travelled and strayed on his fingers then his left arm, before finally meeting his eyes. Her mouth tightened. Lifting an eyebrow mockingly, she began, "So this is what has become of 'The one who protects'?"

His eyes narrowed, while his nostrils flared. He moved closer and closer to her. His body tense with energy that hadn't been there moments ago. He wanted to show her even if she was only a delusional image his mind had created. He would show her. He neared her, so only a step remained between the two—yet she showed no signs of fear.

In fact, she slowly brought her hand to her mouth, trailing her fingers over her lips as if contemplating him deeply. "Whatever happened to the cocky moron that moved as if he owned the place? What happened to the boy that at least had the ability—"

"Shut up." He hissed again. Watching as she paused, before deliberating bating him.

"Sad isn't it? You're nothing but a revolting insignificant being that can no longer even keep himself clean. Where is that sharp tongue Strawberry? Gone with your powers? You never realized just how inconsequential—"

He hadn't ever thought what his actions could be only his desperate need to shut her up. He wanted her to eat her words. He wanted to feel again. His right arm pulled her tightly to him, causing her to grunt in surprise, before his left hand tugged itself into her hair, pulling it back until he could see her eyes. His lips crashed to hers. Sweeping, pulling, nibbling.

Pure unaltered ambrosia.

Something in him broke. She was his escape. He pulled her closer. Her warmth finally seeping through him. He would take whatever his mind gave him to allow this feeling to continue. The feelings that enveloped him caused his heart to beat. Yes, he would take it. He could feel a series of intense emotions filter through his body. He could barely feel his shoulders being pushed. All he knew was her presence. Her light.

Sharp pain jetted into his shin, "What?" He finally pulling away and said in a gravelly hoarse voice.

Deep violet eyes watched him, before tugging his right hand. "You're a complete idiot."

He shivered as he tried to snatch his hand back, when the horrifying clarity of what just happened crashed into him.

"Don't you dare. You're going to shower since you're absolutely filthy. Why the hell would you let your hair grow so much? Once you're done, I'm going to take care of those hands of yours." Her voice steeled, as she looked at him. "Kami, Ichigo what have you been doing to yourself?"

His mind now over thrown with every emotion did as he was told. Moving to the shower, he methodically stripped his clothes, watching as the smaller woman cleaned up the shattered mirror. His hallucinations were just like her. Down to the way she moved, the grace in her steps to the slight tilt of her head as she worked with concentration. What was going on?

He turned the jet on, jumping slightly at the cool water pouring through. He wiped his head back and watched as she disappeared through the door, closing it gently behind her. He closed his eyes, titling his head, wanting clarity—except her scowling face entered his mind. The eyes that were unique only to her had indeed looked at him in slight disappointment—and was it heartbreak? No. She wasn't really here. He hadn't really seen her since he lost his powers. This… it was nothing but his imagination and his unfulfilled desire to see her again. Just to feel needed again.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

A few more minutes later, he finally found the strength to move. Washing his hair and his body was a quick task. Stepping out he wrapped his lower half in a towel, looking over to the sink and the broken mirror. Well, he mused, at least he really did break the mirror. He stepped out of the bathroom making his way to his room. Seeing nothing there, he walked over to the closet pulling out a pair of sweats and slipping into them he stood silently looking in the closet.

Where once Rukia's bed was, now placed were a spare quilt and futon. She wasn't here. A sore remainder that he had lost the one thing that mattered next to his strength. A hand reached towards him, pulling him away and leading him to the bed, breaking him from his thoughts. He watched as the mirage of Rukia scowled and began to clean the wounds on his hand.

"I can't believe you Ichigo. Why would you do this? Why?" She began disinfecting his wounds.

He watched her. He couldn't move or look away barely registering the sting of the antiseptic. She looked the same as she always did. Her hair was slightly longer from what he remembered. She muttered angrily at him while looking slightly worried. His voice gone, he helplessly watched. She seemed more confident than before too. Though no one could say that she was weak, not after everything she did.

He wondered if she ever visited him? Did she ever think about him? Sure she promised they would be friends for as long as time, but did that really mean anything when you couldn't see the other person. His powers gone he felt ripped apart. Worse than any physical injury dealt to him was that without his powers was that he couldn't see anyone anymore. Not the ghosts he helped, not the hollows he killed, not the shinigami and most definitely not Rukia.

Helpless and useless was what he had become.

Pathetic.

He watched as she gently began to wrap his hand with gauze, taking time to wrap it so his fingers weren't restricted. So caring she was, remembering even the minutest of details about him. She finished and looked at him, glaring slightly into his eyes and began working on his second hand. At his continued silence once she finished the second hand, she pushed him into his bed causing him to lie down.

"How could you?" her voice nothing but a whisper as she guided him into a more comfortable position. She kneeled next to his bed, her head resting lightly on the mattress watching him.

His voice. He needed to answer her. "…I…I can't do this." So gravelly and hoarse.

Her eyes steeled, "Yes you can. You're Ichigo!"

He closed his eyes painfully, her eyes held more emotions than he knew how to read.

"W-what do I do?" Again, scratches on a rough surface.

"You aren't this weak." Her voice now cracking, "You're so much stronger."

He opened his eyes at her tone meeting violet eyes looking dangerously close to tears. His brows furrowed, Rukia didn't cry. Why was she crying? What could he do?

"You could start by picking yourself up. You could try smiling again or even having a scowl on your face." Fingers moved gently to his lips, "Where has that scowl of yours gone? Where has the punk, the moron and the idiot gone to?"

His heart hammered as her finger tips put the gentlest of pressure on his lips. A warmth he didn't know how to explain settled over him. Not knowing when he even acted, he had pulled her into his arms, burying his head into her shoulder. Her body shuddered in his, as her arms moved to settle into his hair, holding him as if he would shatter like the mirror.

His body trembled feeling her. Her solid form in his arms. His breath shaky, he tightened his grip not wanting to let her go. Before he knew it he was asleep.

Blearily his eyes opened. His hand stung from its awkward position, slowly he turned to notice that his hand had weight on it. Looking down a sight that surely was a dream greeted him, he sighed softly, tugging the body deeper into his embrace.

"You're finally awake."

He swallowed thickly. "Ahh."

"Well, come on, let's have breakfast then." The voice mumbled not moving from the warmth of his body.

He didn't want to move, but he would humor her. Slowly his arms loosened and felt a heavy weight settle on his heart as Rukia moved away. Her clothes falling gracefully without wrinkles in a wave of black. She turned back giving him a slight scowl, "Come down soon."

He nodded, before watching her leave his room. His heart pounding—telling him to chase after her. To hold her in an attempt to hold onto to some sort of hope. But he knew he couldn't. He had finally gone mental, no longer sane to function. Images of what he had done yesterday bothered him. Shifting to lay on his back he brought his hands up, looking at the bandages now stained with red from his unknowing clenching.

Shattering the mirror without considering the consequences was an act of self-mutilation. Something he hated. How could he have done that? He was stronger than that, but he was also human. He had needed to lash out. Was it wrong, this desperate need to feel again? Was it—

"Oi, moron! Get down here."

He moved off the bed, and made his way downstairs. He would let his mind play these games. When he woke up he would deal with it all. He need to know that there was a hope to get his powers back. If his mind created these images, these sounds in a way to give him a glimpse, a feel of Rukia… he would take it. Cradle in securely for as long as he could.

Scratching the back of his head, wanting to do nothing more than believe that she was truly here, he walked into the kitchen. She couldn't cook, that much he knew. So he wasn't surprised to see a bowl of simple rice and yesterday's leftovers. A tall glass of water before the plate and bowl stood silently.

"Stop being lazy and eat." Rukia snapped playfully.

He followed her instruction siting down, but looking at her as if he's forgotten how. She shook her head before pulling a chair over to him and taking the chopsticks.

"This is the only time I'll do this. Got it!" Her face turned an interesting flush of pink, before steady hands began to pick the rice, dipping it lightly in the leftover curry, and moving towards him.

Hi eyes widened comically staring at the bite before him. He had to have been dreaming, there was no fucking way this was reality.

"Open up." Getting no response Rukia sighed before bring her hand up and squeezing his nose. Ichigo yelped at the sudden move, only to have his mouth stuffed with food. "That's what you get you bastard. Making me do something so embarrassing."

He blinked before snatching the chopsticks away from her and edging away slightly. He swallowed quickly, "What the fuck?"

"You're fault. Now eat." She crossed her arms before her chest. "Then we're going to discuss this grave that you seem to be digging for yourself."

Taking a quick sip from his water, he gave her a look. Yeah, so his imagination was pretty good at representing who she was. "We don't need to discuss anything because you're not here."

An eyebrow rose, her face not showing any surprise at the his reply. "Well, if I'm your hallucination, explain to me how I bandaged your hand? How the mirror was cleaned from the floor? And how you're eating a meal you obviously didn't prepare?"

Ichigo swallowed the bite before answering, "It's a pretty damn good dream. I know I don't have any of my powers back yet, so you are not real."

Her fingers tightened digging into her sleeves. "Eat and we'll talk."

The rest of the meal continued in silence. He watched as she leaned back in her chair, though her posture continued to remain stiff. Shrugging it off, he looked to her face. Still so pale, the contrast between her hair and skin was amazing. How could he have forgotten? Soon, he found he couldn't eat anymore and took a final sip of his water before getting up.

"If I'm going to look like I'm talking to myself, we might as well take it back upstairs." He watched her nod, before getting up and walking before him. He was startled at realizing he didn't like to watch her back. It was almost like she was walking away from him. He began to move faster to finish this whole ordeal so he could go back to his life of purgatory.

She was moving stiffly, taking measured steps and finally opening the door to his room. She turned back and looked at him, silently telling him to hasten his pace. When he entered the room, she shut the door gently behind him.

The silence that weighed down on them left so much to interpret. He was curious to see what his mirage would say.

Rukia cleared her throat, "Do you know why you can see me?"

"Dream, remember."

His words had caused her to close her eyes, before she swallowed slowly, "No Ichigo. You—you're… you were going to die if I didn't stop you."

His head turned sharply at that, "What?"

"You were close to committing sui—suicide." Rukia finally let out the last word… heavier than anything.

His eyes widened as he began to shake his head no. God no. He wouldn't ever take such a cowardly action.

"You were. I've been here to visit you a few times, but never have you been so bad. You would have died of blood loss." Her tone even now as if she was reciting a textbook, "Had your energy not spiked, I would have never been able to do anything. Your soul was calling out to me. You wouldn't have bothered healing your wounds, instead sat in the bathroom to watch your blood flow onto the tiles. You would've closed your eyes hoping you would end up in Soul Society." She finally took a shuddering breath, "Except you wouldn't have ended up there. Not with the amount of sorrow you carry. I probably would have never seen you again." She looked up into his eyes, painfully she asked, "Is that what you would've wanted?"

He was speechless, only hearing the words, suicide, blood loss and finally sorrow. Was that what would've happened? Was that really what would have happened. No. He refused to believe it.

"Get it together! If it hadn't been for your soul crying out I would've never known. How could I have saved you had I been too late?" Her tone became sharp, "Would you have wanted Karin, Yuzu or your father finding you this way? How do you think your mother would have felt? Your friends? Me? How could you be so selfish?"

"Stop!" Ichigo cried hoarsely, "I never wanted that!"

"Then live you fucking idiot!"

"I can't!"

"Losing your powers is nothing! You haven't lost anything that you can't gain back!"

"I don't feel anything!"

"Don't be so stupid. You're not a container! You have a soul!"

"I'm pathetic—just fucking useless."

"Yes, because you won't try."

"How the hell am I supposed to get back myself if part of it is gone?"

"Have you even tried to contact your zanpakutō?"

"Of course I've tried, but you can only do so much before you lose hope!"

"Don't you fucking dare die, Ichigo."

"I'm not planning to!"

"Good! Enjoy being alive because you have centuries of being dead ahead of you."

"I want to live—I just can't!"

"Learn you moron!"

"How?"

"By not losing who you once were! By taking a day at a time, by just being happy and calming your soul. How the hell are you supposed to get anything back when your very soul is a mess? Take care of yourself."

"It's isn't that easy!"

"Try it! Prove to me that you are worth something, not what you've become."

"I don't have anything to prove to you."

"Then prove it to yourself!"

Both were breathing harshly after relieving themselves of their feelings. They moved towards each other. Rukia's form was shaking from what he didn't know. But knowing this is… this wasn't a dream. But the safety net for his very own stupidity—was just wonderful. He pulled Rukia into his embrace. Holding her closely as he felt tears begin to soak his chest. Had he really been that close to death? What had he been thinking?

How could he do something like that?

Had he really been living like that?

He bent his head, breathing deeply into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She was real. His powers were coming back. Resolution filtered through his mind. Never would he be the cause of her tears. Never would he be so weak. Never would he be a coward. Tears slipped from his eyes into her shoulder as he pulled her even more securely. Rukia whimpered into his embrace holding him even more tightly.

As his resolution grew stronger and stronger he noticed Rukia become lighter and lighter. His grip tightened. Before moving his head slightly towards her ear. "Thanks…"

"Don't you ever scare me like that again."

Her body even lighter but he refused to open his and move away. He swallowed thickly, before the timber of his voice deepened, "Wait for me."

Nothing but a wisp now, her body and arms nothing but a caress no matter how tightly she held onto him.

"Always."

With that her presence disappeared but oddly he didn't feel alone. He pulled back straightening himself, before clumsily rubbing his eyes. He let out a small huff, leaning back his head. Almost as if she was still watching him, he said softly into his empty room, "Soon."

He felt the slightest of pressure on his arm as a reply, he nodded.

He would live. He would fight. He was Ichigo fucking Kurosaki. It was time he began acting like it.

Author's Note:

… I know…

I had a lot of built up angst I needed to get out? But hey, they sorta worked it out. You should be happy I didn't extend it. I was originally planning on it—but I just like how this just flowed. There are a lot of unanswered "items" in this chapter that will be answered coming in the following chapters.

The story is AU after Ichigo loses his powers. I love me some character development. So that is where this is. Yes, Rukia was physically in this chapter, she won't (unfortunately) be in the next few. Sorry guys, but I need to build up Ichigo. You know, show you how much he changed and etc…

Chapter 2: Monday June 25th, 2012